


Le Castle Vania - Infinite Ammo 10 Hours [Bass Boosted]

by Rhonda



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bank Robbery, Codenames, Gen, Gun Violence, Heist, Heists gone wrong, Misgendering, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Female Grell Sutcliff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhonda/pseuds/Rhonda
Summary: The year is 1972, and the criminal prodigy Ciel Phantomhive, better known by his codename: Watchdog, has concocted his most elaborate heist to date. If everything goes according to plan, his crew will walk away with a cool sixteen million dollars in unmarked bills.The only catch is that the entire plan hinges on a certain rogue element known only as Ripper, who's famous around the criminal underworld for having a "quirky" personality.
Relationships: Background William T Spears/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Le Castle Vania - Infinite Ammo 10 Hours [Bass Boosted]

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself that I'd write this as a reward for finishing [my biggest project to date.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25215958/chapters/61119820)
> 
> This fic is a spiritual cousin to [Mick Gordon - BFG Division 10 Hours [Bass Boosted]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25065496/chapters/60711940) in so far as they both exist to sate the eighth grade boy inside of me who really hated Black Butler.
> 
> Grelle is referred to with he/him pronouns throughout most of this, just a heads up.

“He’s late,” Watchdog complained in the back of the sedan. The prodigy had been planning this heist for months and presently it all hung on the punctuality of one specialist he had to call in from outside of his regular crew. He had spent just as much time planning the heist as he had calling upon his connections to find a suitable auger for this particular lockbox. Ultimately it had been through a black market organ dealer that he got in contact with a man only known as Ripper. He was apparently deadly efficient, but also, if any of the rumors were to be believed, quirky. Which would have ordinarily been a deal breaker to Watchdog, but the window for this particular heist was closing and he had to move quickly.

Black Cat didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, in fact he had the same amused smirk on his face that he always did. The young man’s right hand and bodyguard never seemed phased by anything, even as his conspirator fretted over details and time tables.

“There!” shouted Owl in her shrill voice, pointing out a man with long red hair in an even longer black trenchcoat. He had a large duffle bag over his shoulder and was milling about in front of the bank restlessly.

“Alright, let’s go,” Watchdog said. He, Black Cat, Owl, and Chef all got out of the car with their own duffles in hand.

“Good luck,” said Doz from behind the wheel before taking off towards the parking garage across the street to wait for his signal. The four of them crossed the street to meet up with their specialist.

“Oh finally, you know it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting,” he said once he saw them. Watchdog was about to correct him in that they were actually the ones waiting for him, but he quickly pulled a purple mask out of his bag, put it on, and strode into the bank. They heard gunshots and screaming.

“Did… he just go in?” asked Watchdog, incredulous. 

“Looks like it, chief,” Chef said.

They ran in after him.

“We’re not supposed to be going loud yet, Ripper! Did you read any of the plans I sent you?” Watchdog shouted the moment he was in earshot. There were two security guards laying dead on the ground with gunshot wounds in their head. In Ripper’s hands were two small chrome pistols that couldn’t be any higher caliber than a .38, and upon closer inspection his purple mask was the spitting image of the Cheshire Cat from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. Its stiff grin mocked him.

“Yeah, I totally read them… no, no I didn’t, sorry,” he said, shedding his trench coat to reveal what he was wearing underneath. Unlike the plain business suits the Phantomhive gang were wearing, Ripper had on a poofy red lolita dress with a bullet proof vest over top of it. Watchdog only noticed at that point that he was also wearing thigh highs and red high heels.

Black Cat laughed and Chef stiffened up at the sight of a man in women’s clothing. This must be the quirkiness Madam Red mentioned. A civilian made a run for the door and Ripper shot her three times in the legs.

“What the fuck?” was all Watchdog could say.

“What? She ran,” Ripper said as the woman screamed in pain from the floor.

“Don’t shoot civilians, you idiot!” Watchdog screamed in anger, slipping on his own bulletproof vest as the other members of his gang did too. 

“I suppose the plan’s changed then,” Black Cat said with a smirk, pulling out a submachine gun and passing it to Watchdog who unfolded the stock. “Alright Chef, secure the hostages.” He nodded, slipping on his Chef Boyardee mask, and pulling out his assault rifle and flammenwerfer. “Owl, upstairs, for overwatch on the third floor,” Black Cat continued. The petite woman donned the mask resembling her namesake and ran off without another word, sniper rifle in hand. “Watchdog, you’re with Ripper and I, we need to get to the manager’s office to get the keycodes.” Watchdog was still stunned by how rocky their start was going, but when he watched Black Cat don his cartoon devil mask he was snapped out of it and managed to put on his own mask of Queen Victoria. He was grateful to have such a quick witted bodyguard.

There was a crash of glass and a loud ringing started. Instead of walking around behind the teller's counter like a normal person, Ripper had smashed through the window setting off an alarm. He ducked behind a desk and engaged in a firefight with a few more security guards who came out from the back, pistols in hand.

“Is this guy for real?” Watchdog asked genuinely. 

“Real as they come,” replied Black Cat.

They passed by Chef who was wrapping plastic zip ties around the arms and legs of the unlucky civilians who had been in the lobby when the shitshow started, and moved to support Ripper who was pinned down. Black Cat wrapped around to the side, flanking the security guards and shot them through the glass of the nearby teller’s booth. Seeing as the alarm was already triggered Watchdog figured it didn’t really matter. His bodyguard hopped over the desk through the broken glass with an ease that Watchdog himself had trouble emulating.

Ripper met up with them as they went into the back of the bank, immediately turning the wrong way and running down a hallway that if he’d read the blueprints would know only ended in some bathrooms and a janitor’s closet. He had half the mind to let him run off and do his own thing, but Black Cat thought differently and called out to him.

The crossdresser comically skidded to a halt and spun around, running back after them. To his credit Ripper certainly knew how to book it in high heels.

“Thank you so much Kitty, I really appreciate that, and the assist back there,” he said rolling the vowels around in his mouth like they were hard candies. “You’re so very chivalrous to come to the aid of a lady in peril.” Black Cat scoffed and made some noncommittal noises of discomfort. 

They passed by a series of cubicles populated by sheltering office workers and ran up a flight of stairs, before they were in front of a large looking office with a nameplate that read: “Aleister Chamber | Branch Director”

“Oh, you Ruffians!” the blond man said in a thick posh accent as they barged into his office. “You may have taken my bank for now, but just wait, I have already alerted the authorities, they’ll put an end to your fun.”

“The cops don’t scare us, just give us the codes to the vault,” Watchdog said pointing his gun at the man’s face. Black Cat took out a knife and twirled it in his hands, the implicit threat of what it might be used for made the Branch Director shudder, still he held out.

“I shan't give you the codes, you’ll have to kill me,” he said. The moment he finished the sentence there was a loud bang and a red hole appeared in his forehead. Watchdog turned to stare at Ripper whose gun was smoking. 

“What? He said we’d have to kill him,” he said, pointing with his gun for emphasis. Black Cat started searching the body and desk. Watchdog just groaned, and paced around the room. This would be the absolute last time he’d hire outside help.

“It’s okay, look, they’re written down on a note in his top drawer,” Black Cat said assuaging him. 

“Oh wow, what a doofus,” said Ripper “Come on, let’s get to the vault. By my estimation we should have the first responding LAPD here any moment now.” As if to emphasize his point they heard gunshots coming from the lobby.

They made their way out to the balcony that overlooked the atrium where Chef was dug in with his hostages. It looked like some beat cops were closing in on his position, and they could see more flashing lights coming down the road. Chef lay down suppressing fire to slow their approach and they took cover behind some metal tables. 

Black Cat ran up to the edge of the balcony and gunned them down. Chef turned to look up at them giving a thumbs up. Out of the window more cops started to assemble only to be picked off by Owl from the floor above them. That should stall their approach while they got to work on the vault.

Black Cat put in the code along with the forged keys they had made during their weeks of reconnaissance. Weeks of reconnaissance that for the most part had gone out the window when Ripper ran in guns blazing.

“Alright, which one was it?” Ripper said, throwing away his pistols and running his fingers down the rows of safety deposit boxes.

“Well, you would have known had you read my dossier!” Watchdog shouted, unable to control his mounting frustration. Black Cat put his hand on Watchdog’s shoulder and calmly informed Ripper of the lockbox’s number. He stopped in front of it, and sized it up, before reaching into his duffle bag and stiffening in shock.

“Hold on, I know it’s in here somewhere,” he said digging around in his oversized duffle bag. After a moment he finally said: “Guys, I think I left my drill at home.”

“No, what? You can’t possibly be serious!” screamed Watchdog incredulously. 

“Yeah, I’m just messing with you,” he assuaged, pulling out a large jury rigged drill made out of various hardware appliances and setting it up against the box. Black Cat squeezed Watchdog’s shoulder and leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“Once this is over I can deal with him if you’d like.”

“Yes, certainly,” he whispered back. 

The drill was noisy and sent sparks all across the floor and walls of the vault. Even still they heard more gunshots from the lobby.

“With your leave, I believe Chef might require some assistance,” said Black Cat reloading his submachine gun.

“I’d really rather you not leave me with him,” Watchdog replied.

“It’s like one of those fox chicken worm puzzles, huh?” Ripper called out over his shoulder. Watchdog’s back stiffened, not having realized Ripper could hear them. “Don’t worry, I’m almost through... Ah! There it is!” There was a loud clatter and the door to the box swung open.

“Sixteen million dollars in unmarked bills,” confirmed Black Cat looking inside of it. They all got to stuffing their bags with the cash. Having the loot in hand certainly lifted Watchdog’s mood even though he knew the more difficult parts of the heist were on their way.

Back in the atrium it looked like more heavily armored police were closing in on Chef who had taken to using his flammenwerfer as a last line of defense. A black column of smoke was billowing from between him and his attackers. The fire suppression system in the building had already gone off, and water was raining down from the ceiling drenching everyone involved.

But how could the police have gotten so far in? Owl’s overwatch should have picked off any foolhardy enough to come close while keeping the more levelheaded ones behind their cover. Watchdog didn’t think that boded well at all. Chef noticed them on the balcony and waved that he was in need of assistance. 

Watchdog and Black Cat did their best to lay down suppressing fire to help Chef get unstuck, but with their lower calibre sub machine guns and short controlled bursts the encroaching cops barely seemed dissuaded. That was until Ripper reached into his bag and pulled out a motherfucking M60 light machine gun.

The higher calibre bullets and high rate of fire tore through the cover and bulletproof vests alike. The Lobby was an absolute bloodbath. This must be the deadly efficiency they’d heard about. His aim was good and it wasn’t long before the surviving supercops were falling back to a safer position. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about shooting retreating LAPD in the back and neither did Black Cat. Watchdog was too stunned at Ripper’s audacity to participate. Maybe he’d have to rethink offing this guy once they were out of here.

Chef was finally able to get unstuck from his position, leaving the hostages and meeting up with the rest of them as they made their way higher in the building. They would head to rendezvous with Owl on their way to the sky bridge that connected them to the parking garage and their getaway vehicle. 

On the third floor they found themselves in an office complex next to huge glass windows, half of which either had bullet holes or had been shattered completely. Owl was ducked behind a particularly thick section of wall in between two shattered windows. She waved at them to halt their approach when she saw them.

“There’s another sniper, there is!”

They all stopped and took cover behind their own sections of solid wall save for Ripper who just kept jogging even after Black Cat shouted for him to come back.

“Oh I appreciate your concern for my safety, you _handsome devil._ But I think I’ll be just fine,” he stopped in the middle of a window as emphasis, waving his hands in the air. “See, fine.”

“What, I coulda sworn there was…” Owl said, poking out her head to take a look. Almost immediately there was a loud gunshot from outside and Owl’s head flew back before her body collapsed to the ground.

“Oh uhh… shit!” shouted Ripper, making a bee line for the other end of the complex. Black Cat swore and urged them to run after him, shielding Watchdog’s body with his own. There were more gunshots, most of them missed, but one took Black Cat in the shoulder. The wound looked bad and Watchdog could see shattered bone poking through. 

Eventually they made it to the skybridge, and Black Cat urged them not to stop. There was a rumbling from the ceiling and half a dozen SWAT cops swung in smashing the glass windows on either side of them. Ripper immediately hit the deck and started shooting, downing two of them before they could even return fire. Black Cat tackled Watchdog to the ground but still took another bullet for his trouble. Chef wasn’t so lucky and was lit up with bullets. As Black Cat and Ripper cleaned up the SWAT team in front of them, Watchdog could hear the sounds of another team closing in from behind them. He also noticed that Chef was still alive.

“Leave him!” shouted Black Cat, grabbing Watchdog by the wrist and pulling him into a headlong sprint towards the far end of the bridge. As a few bullets whizzed past their heads Ripper turned around and took aim at Chef on the ground who was being swarmed by black suited SWAT cops. He shot at the napalm tank on his back causing it to detonate engulfing half of the skybridge in flame. 

The noise was cacophonous, and Watchdog closed his eye for the light it gave off. But once the ringing in his ear subsided it was quiet. 

Doz was right where he was supposed to be and helped the three of them load the trunk of the car with their bags of loot. Black Cat was bloodied, but he still helped Watchdog into the back seat of the car while Ripper took shotgun. Watchdog was shaken at losing two members of his crew over the course of a minute but he steeled himself knowing they weren’t out of the woods just yet. 

Doz tried to drive them out of the parking garage as casually as he could, but Ripper said he needed air and rolled down his tinted window at exactly the wrong time. The assembled police on the street just stared at his cheshire cat mask before drawing their guns and opening fire.

“Aw fuck sorry,” Ripper said returning fire as Doz stepped on the gas pedal. No one was laughing this time. Not that they had been previously. Watchdog took out his revolver and pressed it to the back of Ripper’s seat but Black Cat put his hand over top of his lowering it. 

He didn’t say anything but the message was clear, “Don’t let your anger get the better of you, we’ll still need him to get out of this mess.”

Exhausted, Black Cat rolled down his own window and leaned out of it to fire at the pursuant police cruisers, and Watchdog did the same. Black Cat managed to pop the tires of one while Ripper’s heavy calibre machine gun ripped through reinforced windshields and managed to kill the drivers of the other two.

They were for the most part in the clear, or at least they thought they were until the sound of whirring blades heralded the coming of a police helicopter up over the line of low Los Angeles buildings.

Doz swore from behind the wheel and took a sharp turn hoping to lose them before they got directly overhead. Ripper screamed and nearly fell out of the window. Watchdog had half a mind to push him out. 

It was no use, the chopper was still on them. There was a gunshot from above and a hole appeared on the hood of the car. Ripper struggled back into his seat before popping open the top of his machine gun and discarding what was left of the nearly spent belt of ammo. 

“I thought this might be an issue but fear not gentlemen, a lady always plans ahead,” he said, digging into his duffle bag again. It was only a moment before he reemerged with a belt of nasty looking black tipped armor piercing bullets that he fed into the side of the gun before cocking it. There was another gunshot from the helicopter above, and Doz swerved after being startled by the asphalt in front of them exploding. 

Ripper leaned back out of the window and unleashed hell on the chopper above them. He held down the trigger and must have fired two hundred rounds before the smoking chopper began veering off course and out of sight. The barrel of his machine gun was bordering on white hot and it misfired a few times from the heat before he brought it back in and laid it across his lap

“Yeah, you did it!” Doz shouted in celebration, giving Ripper a pat on the shoulder. Suddenly the gun misfired one last time cracking Doz’s skull in half and causing him to slump over the centre console.

“Oh shit, my bad!” Ripper said, grabbing onto the steering wheel to keep the sedan from veering off of the road.

Black Cat slapped Ripper's hands away from the wheel and climbed into the front seat, opening the door and unceremoniously kicking Doz’s body out through it. Watchdog pressed his revolver against the back of Ripper’s neck and told him to drop his gun. He was beyond done with fucking around. Ripper complied, sticking his hands up, albeit a bit sarcastically and limp wristed.

Black Cat drove them out of town and into an old abandoned junkyard, the place they had originally planned to split the cash. Now it would serve a different purpose.

Black Cat had lost a lot of blood and clearly was much the worse for wear, but he still ordered Ripper out of the car with a loud bark.

“Such an air of authority, on this one. I sure wouldn’t mind hearing that voice in the bedroom,” he said getting out of the car, Watchdog’s revolver still pressed into his back. “Can I put my hands down now? My arms are getting tired.”

“No. I just lost three of my best heisters because of your fucking incompetence,” shouted Watchdog, furious.

“On your knees!” added Black Cat, pulling out his own pistol and kicking Ripper in the back of his thigh high.

“Oooh, okay~!” he sang, complying eagerly as he was forced to the ground.

“Any last words?” asked Watchdog, pulling back the hammer on his revolver.

“I honestly can’t think of anything clever, what about yours?”

“Huh?” they both said in unison before they were shot in the head from behind. 

* * *

“Finally, you know it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting,” Ripper said standing up and running to embrace her boyfriend.

“My apologies, we didn’t have a clean shot until we could get closer. And I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t wear that ridiculous outfit,” Foreman tisked disapprovingly from behind his March Hare mask. Ripper sighed and rolled her eyes, suddenly realizing her eyes couldn’t be seen from behind her mask.

“I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Loverboy called out from behind a matching Dormouse mask while opening up the trunk of the car to get a look at the loot. 

“At least one of you respects me,” she said before turning back to Foreman. “Still, I do appreciate your sniper coverage back there, honey. I honestly don’t think I and LAPD would have been able to handle all five of them on our own.” 

“You’re very welcome,” Foreman said, love creeping into his voice. He lifted up his mask ever so slightly so he could nuzzle into the crook of her neck and pepper her with kisses. She squirmed and giggled at the touch. They heard a bag being unzipped from behind them.

“Sixteen million dollars…” Loverboy let out a low whistle. “What are you guys going to do with your cut?”

“I’m going to get myself the best vagina money can buy,” called out Ripper cheerfully.

“That’s a lot of money Ripper. Surly you have other plans for that money, unless you intend to buy a lot of vaginas,” said Foreman, leaning back, voice returning to his normal disgruntled monotone.

“That would be so many vaginas...” Loverboy confirmed.

“Maybe, I just will,” she said laughing.


End file.
